Ernest Hemingway:

As Ernest Hemingway once said...
'All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.'

Monday, February 27, 2006

leave it to a Catholic to get me drunk at Mardi Gras

Mardi Gras was a blast this year. We made sure to bring a lot of our own alcohol (thank you, flasks), so we didn't even have to spend that much money, which is a good thing, if you plan on drinking a lot. It can get very expensive down there.

The Metro Link and bus ride down there were horribly annoying. There were tons of annoying little frat and sorority types, cussing loudly on the bus. I'm all for cussing, but come on. There's a time and a place. I was needing a drink seriously by that point. I was also seriously shocked at the number of girls I saw in either stilettos or flip flops. I'm not even trying to get that one. The alcohol kicked in about a fourth of the way through the evening, and everything up until that point was just dumb and annoying. There's no point to go to Mardi Gras if you're not drunk. Sad, but true.

Let's start by pointing out a few simple facts. When I'm drunk, I:
-talk a lot. I mean A LOT. I'll tell you things you wish you'd never heard, and say things I would NEVER normally say. It's freakish. My friends at my old job were shocked by how different I am when I'm drinking. Hopefully I'm not horribly annoying, but I'm sure I am.
-become slightly violent. I'd never fight or anything like that, but if I push you in jest, you're bound to fall over. I'm pretty strong, and tend to forget that when drinking. I'll threaten a lot too. I remember throwing a door into a wall so hard in college it left a gaping hole from the knob. I wasn't even trying to do it.
-lose any and all inhibitions. CB & Chuck know this about me, and I believe took advantage. More below.

We went up with V & CB, our bestest friends in the world. We layered on the clothing and beads, which worked out great in the end. I wasn't cold much at all (wait, maybe that was the alcohol - whatever, it worked). We met up with Chuck halfway through, and some random couple that became our new best friends in the world once the girl showed Chuck her boobs - twice - right in front of her boyfriend. We were all impressed. Q and I don't get jealous much at all, but even I wouldn't try that in front of him (though I really, even through the drunkenness, didn't ever feel the urge to show the breasteses). I did kiss some random guy on the cheek for a long sleeved t-shirt (which Q lost, subsequently prompting me to steal Chuck's, which I don't believe he remembers at all) after threatening to kick some guy's ass because he had a whole box and wouldn't give me one. Come on. A whole box. Give it up. Luckily he had enough sense to walk away. It is a cool t-shirt, though.

While admiring Chuck's pics of boobs (and girls licking boobs - yep, you really do see it all), we ran into some random guy. We happened to mention we wanted more alcohol, and he told us to go to his booth, around the corner, where he wouldn't give us free booze (believe me, the last thing we needed at that point), but he'd hook us up with more than the standard shot of rum. We gave it a few minutes, then headed over. The guy did hook us up, and in the process, I asked him where he worked that he was at that booth. He said he was helping run it for a Catholic church in South City. I cracked up completely. I was not too drunk to appreciate the irony in that one. Catholics making money off drunk fools. Interesting... Needless to say, the rest of the alcohol we bought came from there, which in V's case was a very bad thing.

After dubbing V's football-shaped beer container the Catholic Football (they filled it with a variety of alcohols), we met the random couple. I ended up talking business and getting the guy's card (so he could come and meet my financial advisor), and kissing his wife (small peck, people) - twice. Evidence of CB & Chuck taking advantage, folks. By the way, I never talk business. I'm so bad at it, which is why I'm not an advisor - sales just aren't my cup o' tea in the least bit.

I also allowed CB to lick my face. Not too weird, but definitely a little bit. Take advantage much??? (CB, you know I love you - in fact I think I said that many a time that night). This was right before the Catholic Football kicked V's ass and he ended up on his back in the gutter outside the johnny-on-the-spots. I almost peed myself. It was hilarious. He fell bad enough that throngs of people rushed up to find out what the hubbub was. This was the first of such falls. I consider CB's licks the price of admission for that one. Well worth the show.

After bidding goodbye to our new friends, we made our way to the bus and Metro Link. Chuck got more pics of boobs, I was asked to show 'em by a couple of harley riders (which I politely declined), CB fell into a market booth, and we managed to wedge ourselves into the Metro Link car. I was smashed up in the middle, holding on to Chuck for dear life. With nothing to hold on to, I managed to fall all over the people around me. Luckily it was early enough that they were very nice about it and not pissy.

Chuck managed to topple CB while trying for a piggy back ride, and almost topple Q. This is when I swept in and yoinked his t-shirt. We made it home by 9:30, and promptly passed out on the couch while watching Beavis and Butthead (not my choice, folks) and eating toasted ravioli.

Good, clean fun. You know, other than the bare boobs everywhere and problems staying upright (which I proudly took no part in - I managed to stay on my feet the entire time). I swear, it's always something new at Mardi Gras. I will remember those Catholics forever. How wrong is that??? On second thought, I guess Mardi Gras is a Catholic thing, right? Maybe it's not so wrong after all. No, it's still wrong.

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